


Better When I'm With You

by feathers_and_cigarettes



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Bucky Barnes & Steve Rogers Friendship, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Couch Sex, Deaf Clint Barton, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, Fraction's Hawkeye, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mental Link, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Protective Steve Rogers, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro, Towerfic, Who Put These Feelings In My Porn, porn with a little plot, timelines what timelines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 12:08:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21208289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feathers_and_cigarettes/pseuds/feathers_and_cigarettes
Summary: Bucky self-consciously dipped his fingers under his sleeve to brush against his soulmark, getting a rush of adrenaline and exhilaration in response. Barton was clearly fine; he didn’t need a soulmate hovering over him and distracting him on missions. Hell, there wasn’t anything that even indicated that soulmates had to be romantic – platonic relationships weren’t usually common because of the intensity of the bond, but they did exist.In which Bucky and Clint's soulbond gets activated and they proceed in true Idiots In Love fashion and dance around the obvious.





	Better When I'm With You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hawksonfire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawksonfire/gifts).

> Commissioned by the fantastic [Candycanedarcy aka my lovely Arson Baby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/candycanedarcy/pseuds/candycanedarcy) who requested a unique take on soulmates. Each soulmate contains two marks: one displaying how dangerous their soulmate is, and the other showing how much danger they're in. Being Clint and Bucky, even their soulmarks aren't quite your typical marks. Thank you so much for waiting for this, Arson, and I really hope I did it justice. 
> 
> Follow me on [tumblr!](http://feathers-and-cigarettes.tumblr.com)

“For fuck’s sake, Stevie, will you give it a rest?”

He probably had those stupid puppy dog eyes going on, Bucky could just picture it in his head. Seventy odd years and a super serum hadn’t done much to stop Steve fucking Rogers from poking his nose where it didn’t belong.

“I just wanted to make sure you didn’t need anything,” Steve’s voice floated from the doorway.

Sighing, Bucky buried his nose deeper into Lucky’s tawny fur and counted to ten. He was more or less over his fear that he’d randomly snap and try to kill Steve for no reason – Banner’s meditation techniques and a strict workout routine helped quite a bit – but if the guy didn’t stop checking up on him every half hour, it wouldn’t be the Winter Soldier responsible for braining Captain America with a lamp. He lifted his head enough to send an exasperated look in Steve’s direction, only to have it ruined by Lucky’s frantic licking and paw to the face.

“Ow, goddammit, Luck!”

Steve whistled and knelt down in the doorway. “C’mere, Lucky! C’mon, boy!”

Lucky’s tail thumped against the couch and he smiled his big dopey golden retriever smile at Steve, his tongue lolling out of his mouth as he made no effort to move away from Bucky.

Letting his hand drop, Steve’s brow furrowed. “Barton didn’t train him at _all_, did he,” he said with a rueful smile.

Bucky snorted. “Not unless you count shredding pizza boxes,” he replied, rubbing Lucky’s ears affectionately. Sighing, he waved a hand at Steve to come inside. “Just come in, I ain’t gonna yell at you across the room if you’re gonna mother hen.”

Steve’s ears were red as he shuffled awkwardly into the room and took a seat in an armchair that had seen better days. He rubbed at the back of his head, refusing to meet Bucky’s eyes.

“Just out with it, punk,” Bucky groaned, tugging the sleeves of his hoodie lower as Steve’s eyes darted to the strip of metal visible between the shirt and glove. He was sick of everyone tiptoeing around him, sick of the nervous glances and casual reaching for weapons every time he made a move that wasn’t to take his meds.

“I just wanted to make sure you’re doing okay,” Steve said, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his voice. “Y’know, with the mission and everything going on.”

“Barton said it was a milk run.”

“I mean, I don’t think they’re going to need backup or anything, the team’s solid. It’s just the first mission since… y’know,” Steve finished quietly, glancing meaningfully at Bucky’s right forearm.

Christ. That was all anyone ever wanted to talk about lately, the fucking soulmark. Bucky understood why, especially with both of them carrying such high numbers for marks, but he was frankly sick of it. He’d existed for a century without a soulmate; he wasn’t going to suddenly break separated from him for a couple of days.

“He’s at a…” Bucky pulled back his sleeve and glanced at his forearm to get a quick read on the Roman numerals there. “Six. He’s totally fine.”

Steve did a double take, concern etched into every line of his stupid face. “A six? Buck, that’s _high_, should I check with JARVIS?”

For anyone else, yeah, a six was a decently high level of danger, but when the soulmate in question was Clint Goddamned Barton, a five usually constituted him about to trip over a fruit display at the grocery store. A six on a mission was pretty fucking mild. He waved a hand to get Steve to settle back in his chair and Lucky decided to hop off the couch and throw himself against Steve’s legs.

“No, just leave it, pal, I’m serious. Everything is fine. I’m fine. Barton’s fine. The fuckin’ dog is fine,” Bucky said, trying to not let his irritation creep into his voice as he rubbed his hands over his face. “Everyone’s treatin’ me like I’m made of glass and you know I hate that shit.”

Steve held up his hands in surrender. “It’s just a lot to deal with in a short amount of time,” he said, resuming Lucky’s ear rub. “Hell, I remember when Peggy and I…” He cleared his throat. “When we activated, it was an adjustment. I remember constantly checking her number to see if she was okay, it was overwhelming at first.”

Snorting, Bucky leaned back against the couch and raised an eyebrow. “I remember you two couldn’t keep your hands off each other.”

Steve’s face flushed scarlet. “Well, yeah, there was that too.” He looked down at Lucky, scratching the dog’s fluffy neck, face lost in memories. “I just… I dunno, it worries me that you guys haven’t taken any time together or anything. Hell, you’re still living separately.”

Bucky self-consciously dipped his fingers under his sleeve to brush against his soulmark, getting a rush of adrenaline and exhilaration in response. Barton was clearly fine; he didn’t need a soulmate hovering over him and distracting him on missions. Hell, there wasn’t anything that even indicated that soulmates had to be romantic – platonic relationships weren’t usually common because of the intensity of the bond, but they did exist.

“It’s not… we’re not like that, Stevie,” Bucky said finally, moving over on the couch as Lucky hopped up next to him and licked his cheek. “Barton doesn’t need my shit, he’s a goddamned superhero. Half the time he’s in Bed-Stuy anyway and I’m not authorized to leave the Tower.”

“He brought you his dog,” Steve pointed out.

“Because I’m stuck here and he’s on a mission, you’re reachin’.”

Steve frowned, the kicked puppy look deepening on his face. “Do you, y’know, _care_ about him? Like maybe you could see yourself happy with him?”

Lucky crawled his way onto Bucky’s lap, all paws and elbows and frantic happy dog kisses and Bucky swore the mutt was more tuned into his emotions than his goddamned soulmate.

“Are you askin’ if I’m sweet on Barton?”

Rolling his eyes, Steve picked an empty beer can off the side table and pitched it at Bucky’s head. “I know you’re sweet on him, I’ve got eyes, Buck. How many years did I play your wingman?” He smiled, a bit of the Steve that haunted Bucky’s memories peeking through the stoic mask he wore lately. “I’m asking if you’re gonna _do_ anything about it. If you want to do anything about it.”

Sure, he _wanted_ to do something about it. Finding out his soulmate was alive after wondering about his marks for years was a dream come true. He’d been convinced his soulmate was in the military – he’d never seen a mark higher than ten, but the numerals XI had been clearly visible on his left forearm – and then Hydra had done their best to remove any indication the marks had existed, first with the amputation of his left arm followed by trying to surgically remove the dormant mark on his right. Wanting something and realistically being able to have it were two completely different things though.

“Shit, Stevie, don’t ask me that,” Bucky sighed, combing his fingers through Lucky’s neck fur. “He’s busy runnin’ missions for your ugly mug, he doesn’t need a soulmate with a messed up head.”

“Have you asked him that?”

Bucky shot him an exasperated look but knew it was futile. Steve was like a dog with a bone when he latched onto something and even seventy years later, Bucky’s love life was still one of his favourite topics.

“No,” he admitted with a sigh, scratching absently at the mark on his forearm. “He just sometimes drops by, we watch Dog Cops until I fall asleep and then he’s gone by mornin’.” Just enough to not strain their soulbond, that was all.

“Buck…”

“I know, I know, just leave it, would you? We’re fine. This works for us.” The itch on his forearm had turned into an uncomfortable burn and he rubbed it against his jeans as he tried to force back his rapidly rising irritation.

Lucky nudged his arm and Bucky bit back the instinctive yell that bubbled in his throat. The urge to get up and pace the room was suddenly overwhelming and his left shoulder ached with an intense phantom pain he hadn’t experienced in decades.

Steve was on his feet in an instant. He watched Bucky cautiously, his body language open but clearly ready to pounce if needed. His eyes flicked to Bucky’s forearm and they widened almost comically. “Bucky, your mark. Check your mark,” he said quietly, reaching out as if to touch Bucky’s arm and then seeming to think better of it.

The mark felt like a brand as the numerals shifted until a reddened X replaced the VI. Bucky stared at his arm in disbelief; Clint’s number had never been low, but he’d never seen it all the way to ten before. A ten was a death sentence.

Swallowing heavily, Bucky let his left hand hover over his forearm, afraid of what he might learn if he opened their bond. They hadn’t experimented enough with the mental link for Bucky to know if his touching the mark would be a distraction, if Clint would feel Bucky’s rising anxiety. What if he caused his soulmate’s death?

“JARVIS,” Steve’s voice came quietly in front of him. “Status report on Agent Barton and his team.”

“Agent Barton’s communicator is offline as is his tracking device,” JARVIS replied smoothly. “Agent Romanoff’s vitals are within normal range, but she is not responding to comm queries.”

Steve took a step closer and reached out to grab Lucky’s collar. “Can you get a visual on either of them?”

“My apologies, Captain Rogers, but due to the nature of the mission in relation to SHIELD, I’m not permitted my normal range of monitoring.”

Steve’s jaw tightened. “I understand. Can you remind Fury and Hill that Agent Barton has a soulmate and his status needs to be determined immediately for the safety of both involved? His soulbond trumps everything else, including SHIELD security.”

There was a long pause, then JARVIS spoke again. “I have access, Captain Rogers,” the AI intoned, almost smugly for a damned robot. “Agent Romanoff is currently unconscious, she and Agent Barton appear to be pinned down. Director Hill is personally on her way with a squad of SHIELD agents. Their target has been eliminated, however their intel appears to have been inaccurate.”

“Clint,” Bucky rasped, still watching the angry soulmark. “What about Clint?”

“Agent Barton is returning fire, from this angle it appears he has lost his comm unit. He is bloodied, but does not appear seriously injured.”

Fuck. Barton’s comm unit was built into his hearing aids; if he was missing his comm, he was completely deaf as well. Bucky took in a shaky breath and clenched his hands into fists. His soulmate was alive, help was on the way, he just had to stay put until Hill’s extraction team showed up.

“He’s gonna be okay, Buck,” Steve said softly, clapping a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “Barton’s tougher than he looks and he wouldn’t do anything to risk Nat.”

Bucky let out a strangled laugh. The pain in his forearm and the mangled remains of his left shoulder were making him hysterical and he glanced around the room, taking note of purple objects: Lucky’s collar, Clint’s old fleece blanket thrown across the back of the armchair, the chipped coffee mug on the kitchen island. He took in a deep breath and let it out, reaching out to stroke Lucky’s head with his robotic hand.

“Hey, he wouldn’t do anything to risk you either,” Steve continued, gently guiding Bucky back down to the couch. He turned back to the chair and grabbed the purple blanket, draping it over Bucky’s upper body and tucking it around his shoulders like he was some kind of invalid.

“He barely knows me,” Bucky snapped, freeing his arms from the blanket and whapping Steve as he retreated back to the chair. “He’s not doin’ anything to risk me because I’m a national security threat and Fury’d have his head on a platter.”

“When does Barton ever do anything because he’s afraid of Fury?”

Okay, he had a point. “JARVIS, the second Barton’s out of danger, you let us know, yeah?”

“Of course, Sergeant Barnes.”

Bucky clenched his jaw and hugged Lucky a little closer, taking care to avoid meeting Steve’s concerned face. Instead, he focused on the pain on his forearm and ache through the remains of his left shoulder; as long as he had those, Barton was still alive.

~*~*~*~

By the time the quinjet settled silently onto the landing pad, Bucky had worked himself up into a frenzy. His soulmark had settled eventually down to a respectable five and the pain had subsided, but between the stress and the hovering Steve, Bucky was slowly going out of his mind.

He’d abandoned his therapist’s flowery coping techniques as soon as JARVIS announced the quinjet’s arrival. Steve’s quiet reminders that he wasn’t allowed out of the Tower were brushed off with a few murderous glares he’d perfected as the Winter Soldier and he burst through the doorway to the landing pad, ignoring the shouts of the few remaining SHIELD operatives.

“I’m going to need you to step back, Sergeant,” one operative stated, his grip tightening on his rifle as he moved swiftly to block Bucky’s path.

For a split second, Bucky saw red. The plates in his left arm clicked and the tiny gears whirred as he tensed, poised to physically remove the moron standing in between him and his soulmate.

“Bucky!”

Barton appeared in the hatch as the door hissed open, his eyes meeting Bucky’s and stopping the wave of rage. He nudged Natalia and reached up to brush his fingers against the stark white bandage wrapped around her forehead, grinning like a lunatic as she snapped something at him and caught his wrist.

Bucky shouldered his way past the guard and strode across the landing zone. He felt his cheeks heat slightly at Natalia’s knowing smile; nothing ever got past her, and nothing ever would. Nodding briefly at her, he reached for Barton, needing to feel him alive and whole.

“Hey, hey, Buck – okay, alright,” Barton murmured, startling a bit as Bucky pulled him close. He wrapped an arm around Bucky’s waist, the other bracing against the guard rail. “I’m okay. We’re okay.”

“The mark,” Bucky began, voice muffled by Barton’s tac jacket. He couldn’t get to Barton’s soulmark under the bracers, didn’t know if the man would be okay with the contact to begin with, but he _needed_ the physical confirmation that Barton was safe. “Is it supposed to hurt like that?”

Barton went silent, resting his cheek on Bucky’s forehead. His hand rubbed Bucky’s lower back gently over the hoodie. “I don’t know, man. This is all new to me too.”

Beside them, Natalia cleared her throat and nodded meaningfully to the Tower, one eyebrow arched in a silent question.

“Sergeant Barnes, you are not permitted to leave the Tower,” the SHIELD operative stated stiffly behind them.

He opened his mouth to say something more when Natalia stepped in front of him with her face fixed into a dangerously neutral expression. “My partner is allowed to have his soulmate on the landing pad,” she said, her voice silky smooth. “Fury’s rules don’t apply to a soulbond, particularly after he was injured.”

Bucky pulled back immediately, tugging at Barton’s tac jacket and checking him over. “You were injured?”

Barton gently grabbed Bucky’s wrists, taking care to avoid the remaining soulmark on his right forearm and started moving toward the building. “Dislocated my shoulder, it’s back where it should be, don’t worry. Let’s get inside before Fury calls us both in and yells at us for an hour, yeah?”

Nodding and biting his tongue to avoid snapping at the SHIELD guards when they moved a little too close to his soulmate, Bucky allowed Barton to lead him back to the Tower, leaving Natalia to manage the still-worried Steve.

Something had changed between him and Barton, just with that small embrace. The air around them was almost charged, leaving goosebumps all along Bucky’s arm and making his fingers twitch with the need to touch his soulmate. Barton didn’t appear entirely unaffected either; he stood closer than was strictly necessary in the elevator and Bucky could feel those sharp blue eyes on him whenever he looked away.

“So, uh, how’s my dog?” Barton asked finally as the elevator door _dinged _and slid open.

Bucky chuckled softly and moved to the doorway of his quarters. “He’s been good, probably misses you though,” he replied, pressing his palm to the lock and hearing Lucky’s nails tapping on the floor beyond the door.

A golden blur hit them as soon as the door opened. Barton let out a yelp as Lucky smashed into his injured shoulder, but the broad smile that appeared on his face was worth all Bucky’s stress. Laughing into Lucky’s neck, Barton hugged the happily bouncing dog and turned that smile on Bucky.

“He looks pretty good to me; you been feeding him pizza?”

Ducking his head, Bucky hid a grin behind his hair and lightly shoved Barton’s good shoulder. “Been feedin’ him dog food so he doesn’t get fat,” he replied, scratching Lucky’s ears as the retriever hopped excitedly between them. “He was a good boy though, kept Stevie outta my hair.”

Barton gave Lucky one final pat and straightened, wincing a bit as he rolled his shoulder. Bucky could feel the echo of pain through their bond and instinctively reached forward to steady him, earning a grateful smile in return.

“C’mon, sit. Lemme see that shoulder,” Bucky said, tugging Barton over to the couch, mildly surprised when the man complied without protest.

“Grant put it back in place but it’s still pretty sore,” Barton grunted as he gingerly pulled off his tac jacket. “Got thrown into the corner of a desk, and man, that shit hurts like a _bitch_.”

Snorting, Bucky shook his head and helped Barton remove his black t-shirt. He stamped down his immediate reaction to seeing the muscular chest and biceps; God knew how much would travel through their bond and the easy camaraderie he had with Barton wasn’t anything he wanted to risk. He bit the inside of his cheek and reached out to feel along the bruised shoulder, keeping his touch as clinical as possible.

“You’ve got full range of movement, but you definitely banged yourself up pretty good,” he said after putting Barton’s arm through a series of motions. Frowning, he rubbed at a stubborn knot under the shoulderblade. “Gonna be sore for a few days, I think.”

Barton let out a positively sinful groan, melting under Bucky’s hands. “Man, I will take being sore if you keep doing that,” he mumbled, letting his head fall forward against his chest.

Emboldened a bit by the compliment, Bucky smiled to himself and worked his way up the trapezius muscles closer to Barton’s neck. “Metal hand’s gotta be good for somethin’,” he said with a laugh.

“You could market that shit, seriously. Massages like this and your hand and arm never get tired? Sign me the fuck up.”

Bucky’s touch lightened, his fingertips brushing the soft blond hair at Barton’s nape. The extended contact brought wisps of feelings through their bond and he struggled for a moment to fight against falling into Barton’s relaxed mental state. He desperately wanted to hold him close, to give into the bond’s pull. The attraction wasn’t just a result of their bond, that much Bucky was sure about at least; Barton had won him over right at the start with his easy acceptance and sense of humour even in the worst of situations. It was hard to not fall for him.

Abruptly, Bucky pulled his hands away and sat back, swearing under his breath as heat creeped up his neck to his cheeks.

“Aw, Buck, no, no stopping,” Barton whined, rolling his shoulders and neck as he twisted around to face Bucky. He frowned, head cocking slightly to the side in a way that was absolutely _not_ adorable. “What’d I do? Fuck, I wasn’t supposed to mention the metal hand, right? I’m sorry, man, sometimes my brain and my mouth just don’t quite-“

Fuck it. Bucky took a chance, latching onto the faint emotion that had been singing through their bond ever since Barton had stepped off the quinjet, and wrapped one hand around the back of Barton’s neck to slot their mouths together.

For a tense second, Bucky panicked. Barton was frozen against him, mercifully quiet for once. It hadn’t been seventy years since he’d last kissed someone, that much Bucky was sure, and yeah, he was pretty out of practice – God only knew what he’d gotten up to as the Winter Soldier – but he knew he never really had any complaints about his technique. Had he completely misread the situation?

Barton let out a slightly strangled noise and buried his hands in Bucky’s hair, mouth sliding easily and confidently against his. With a small growl, Barton deepened the kiss, moving over to straddle Bucky’s lap on the couch.

“Don’t overthink,” Barton murmured as he pulled back to take a breath. He caught Bucky’s bottom lip in his teeth and smiled wickedly. “Don’t need a soulbond to know we’re on the same page here.”

Bucky tipped his head back as Barton trailed his lips down his throat. He let his eyes close, scratching at the back of Barton’s head in encouragement. “You hid it well enough.”

“Didn’t want to push you,” Barton replied, lifting his head and settling his arms over Bucky’s shoulders. “Figured you’d get around to makin’ a move when you were ready.”

“Surprised you had the patience.”

Barton grinned, rubbing his thumbs along the back of Bucky’s neck. “Yeah, well.” He leaned in close to nuzzle just under Bucky’s ear, his warm breath sending a shiver down Bucky’s spine. “I’m kinda good at surprises.”

“Startin’ to figure that out,” Bucky breathed, shifting underneath Barton’s weight. He turned his head to capture Barton’s lips again, his hands roaming across the broad back and following each vertebra down.

Laughing into the kiss – did the man _never_ stop laughing? – Barton grew bolder and unzipped Bucky’s hoodie, pushing it over his shoulders and sliding one hand under the plain maroon t-shirt. His other hand trailed along Bucky’s right bicep, his touch light and gentle as he trailed his fingertips down Bucky’s forearm to hover over his soulmark.

“Barton.”

“Clint,” came the breathy response. “People only call me Barton when they’re mad at me or I’m on a mission.”

Bucky peered into Clint’s eyes, a little unnerved by the intensity there. Clint had undoubtedly read his files, knew all of the atrocities he’d committed in great detail thanks to the memory exchange during their initial bonding, but there was no judgement in those blue eyes. He adjusted Clint’s weight on his lap, not missing the way the man’s eyes darkened with arousal at the display of strength.

Twisting his forearm, Bucky took a deep breath and nodded at Clint. “Do it, Clint, I need…”

“I got you,” Clint replied roughly, pressing his lips to Bucky’s temple. “I got you.”

It was as if a dam broke the second their palms made contact with the other’s mark. Bucky groaned under the onslaught of emotions that hit him, his hands clenching instinctively on Clint until he registered the small grunt of pain. He curled his left hand into a ball against the small of Clint’s back and jerked his hips upward as the full force of Clint’s arousal crashed into him through the open bond.

“Christ, Buck,” Clint panted, an almost feral look crossing his face as he released Bucky’s mark for a split second to haul Bucky’s shirt over his head and toss it to the side. He pressed his palm back to the mark and pushed Bucky fully onto his back on the couch.

Capturing Bucky’s lips again, Clint took control of the kiss, making Bucky’s head swim with desire. Clint was unlike anyone Bucky remembered being with: rough and aggressive in all the right places and focused to an almost alarming level, able to zero in on every one of Bucky’s hot spots and attack them with teeth and tongue and lips before drawing back to just brush light kisses over the reddened skin.

“Pants,” Bucky bit out, releasing Clint’s forearm to scrabble at the fastenings on his tac pants. The extended contact had been enough to strengthen their bond enough to keep a constant flow of emotions between them and Bucky could feel exactly how much Clint wanted him.

Clint scrambled backward off the couch, pausing to nearly reverently brush his lips over Bucky’s mangled scar tissue on his left shoulder. He unbuckled Bucky’s belt as he left wet, open-mouthed kisses along Bucky’s lower abdomen and chuckled when the muscles bunched and contracted.

Bucky let his head fall back against the arm of the couch and swore as Clint sucked a bruise into his hipbone. He lifted his hips as Clint yanked at his pants, tugging them down and off before quickly divesting himself of his own tac pants.

There wasn’t much time to ogle. Clint was back on him in an instant, lips and teeth attacking his sensitive inner thighs and pulling a long groan from Bucky’s throat as warm breath huffed over his cock.

“Gimme your arm for a second,” Clint murmured, lips moving almost torturously against Bucky’s upper thigh.

Bucky complied, instinctively latching onto Clint’s forearm and biting his lip to keep from crying out as Clint wrapped one hand around Bucky’s soulmark and the other around the base of his cock. With their bond totally open, Bucky could feel Clint’s excitement, his joy at finally being allowed to love his soulmate. It was a heady experience, with both of their emotions coursing between them.

A quick spike in arousal was Bucky’s only warning before Clint swallowed his cock in one smooth motion. Crying out, Bucky grabbed onto the couch cushion, not trusting his control over his metal fingers anywhere near Clint. He bucked shallowly into Clint’s mouth, watching in fascination as his soulmate moved easily with the motion.

Clint drew back slowly to suck the tip, his tongue playing at the sensitive foreskin. He winked cheekily up at Bucky and reached up to run his palm over the planes of Bucky’s abdomen. Closing his eyes, he settled into a rhythm, his head bobbing steadily up and down, his lips and tongue expertly working Bucky’s cock.

A strangled whine escaped from Bucky’s throat, the sensations almost overwhelming. He eyed Clint hungrily, watching his cock disappear into the man’s mouth with a level of intensity he’d never experienced from any of his previous partners. He rubbed his thumb over Clint’s soulmark, trying to harness their bond, seeing if he could direct more of his pleasure toward Clint.

The feedback loop seemed to be working. Clint grunted around Bucky’s cock, throat humming deliciously along the heated flesh, and he shifted upward on the couch. Reaching down, he wrapped his free hand around his own dick and squeezed the base for a long moment before refocusing his attention back on Bucky with a new determination.

Bucky grinned, carefully unclenching his right hand from the now-mangled couch cushion to reach down and cup Clint’s cheek. “Fuck, you’re absolutely gorgeous, sweetheart,” he rasped, thrilling at the feel of the head of his cock through Clint’s cheek. He curled his hand around the strong jaw, finding that spot in his mind once more that was Clint and pushing at the feedback loop. Could he make Clint come just from their bond alone?

Clint’s eyes drifted open, meeting Bucky’s eyes with a hooded, blissed out expression that made Bucky’s cock twitch. He let Bucky’s cock fall from his mouth and grinned, ducking his head to suck a kiss into the base, his tongue flicking out to lap at the tightened skin. “I know what you’re doin’,” he purred, breathing in Bucky’s scent and slowly stroking himself. “I wanna come from feelin’ you. Christ, I’m holding myself back just from the bond like this. Feelin’ you come in my mouth and feelin’ what you’re experiencing? Man, that’s gonna be the greatest orgasm _ever_.”

“Fuck,” Bucky breathed, cupping Clint’s face in his palm. “Fuck, yeah, do that. I want that, sweetheart, please.”

Clint smiled broadly, turning his head to press a kiss to Bucky’s metal palm. His pleasure washed over Bucky, the feelings intensifying as Clint took him back into his mouth and set to his task.

“Feels so fuckin’ good,” Bucky encouraged, breath coming in harsh pants as he rocked his hips gently into Clint’s mouth. He could feel where Clint was comfortable if he focused on their bond and set a shallow but steady pace. Letting his gaze drift to where Clint was jerking himself to the same rhythm, he let himself fall into their mutual pleasure, feeling his nerves flicker with fire as his orgasm approached.

His abdominal muscles tightened as his breath hitched. He reluctantly moved his right hand back to the couch cushion, his left clenching a bit around the warm soulmark. Moaning quietly in quick pants, he tried to control his rapidly shattering rhythm, writhing under Clint and the effects of the soulbond. It was too soon, but there was no way Bucky was going to last, not with the wet heat of Clint’s mouth and his soulmate’s own rising pleasure in his mind.

“Clint,” Bucky groaned, trying desperately to form words. “Clint, please, _please_.”

Clint’s eyes flicked up to meet Bucky’s and that was all it took. Bucky came with a stuttering gasp, hips and cock twitching as his orgasm hit him like a tidal wave. Their soulbond, finally complete, blurred the lines between them, and Bucky wasn’t sure where his pleasure ended and Clint’s began. They rode their joint orgasm out together, the last mental barriers they had crumbling under the weight of the emotions.

Bucky was vaguely aware of Clint shuffling up the couch and collapsing onto his chest as they came down from their high. He pressed a kiss to Clint’s forehead as his soulmate made himself comfortable and buried his face in Bucky’s neck.

“S’intense.”

Smiling against Clint’s hairline, Bucky nodded, releasing his grip on the soulmark and running his hands along Clint’s broad back. “Bond’s complete now,” he murmured, feeling Clint’s exhaustion from both the mission and sex through their bond. Clint’s emotions were stronger now, his surface thoughts easier to follow even without physically touching the soulmark. It was strangely comforting, having Clint Barton a new permanent resident in his head.

“Fuck you, I’m an _excellent_ roommate,” Clint mumbled, wedging his leg between Bucky’s and grimacing. “Aw, we’re gonna need to move or a towel, sorry.”

Bucky huffed a laugh, reaching down to haul Clint’s leg over his thighs. “Let’s just stay here for a little bit, yeah?”

Clint’s agreement was more mental than verbal, sleep hovering around the edges of his mind.

“Clint?”

“Hm?”

Clint’s mind was fuzzy, his lassitude bleeding through to Bucky, but he couldn’t sleep without getting it out. He ran his fingers through Clint’s hair and drew back to look at him properly.

“I, uh,” Bucky hesitated, cursing himself for his sudden nerves. There were no secrets between them, not anymore, and he knew Clint had no misconceptions about _exactly _what Bucky felt for him and that the feeling was very mutual. Why was this so hard?

“Hey,” Clint rumbled, reaching up to stroke Bucky’s face. He stretched up to gently capture Bucky’s lips, love and adoration pulsing through the bond. “I get it. Me too, Buck. Right there with you, man.”

Relief flooded through Bucky and he pushed his own feelings toward Clint, returning the kiss with all the intensity he couldn’t quite put into words yet. He nuzzled Clint’s hair as they settled back into the couch, eyes drifting down to look at the numerals on their forearms. Chuckling softly, he closed his eyes.

“Only we’d be in our own apartment, safe and sound, an’ still only have our marks be a three. Y’think normal people see ones or twos on a regular basis?”

Bucky felt Clint’s mouth curl into a smile against his neck. “Think of it as level of badassery instead of danger. Hawkeye and the Winter Soldier: badasses even bare ass fuckin’ naked.”

“You’re kinda ridiculous.” Amazing, talented, courageous, attractive…

Clint just laughed and hugged Bucky closer, bringing both of them that much closer to being complete.


End file.
